A woman experiences the thrills of being furless in "Smooth," one of three stories by M.A.C. Farrant.
During the night I burst out of my fur, which had previously covered me from head to foot. It came off in an explosion; chunks of brown fur lay on the sheets, the bedroom floor, the dog’s crate in the corner of the room. The force of the explosion woke me up. I was sweating but quickly realized the significance of what had happened.
Losing the fur was an enormous thrill. It was beyond a thrill; I have never known such happiness. I had to tell someone. It was quarter past three in the morning; I woke up my husband.
“Feel my arm!” I cried. He didn’t stir. “Wake up! Feel my arm! It’s smooth!”
He rolled over. “What the hell?”
“Feel my arm! Feel my skin!” I was hysterical with joy. “There’s no fur. I’m free of it at last!”
He threw an arm my way and mumbled, “Yes, yes.”
“Now feel my neck!” I urged. “There’s no fur there either!”
He pawed my neck. “Do you realize what this means?” I cried. “I am now a completely smooth woman!”
He touched my head. “Your head is bald, Olivia,” he said. “Bald as an egg. Better check your pubes.”
“This is just like you to spoil my happiness,” I cried. “I finally achieve something of real importance in my life and you don’t even congratulate me.”
“Congratulations,” he said. “But you’re still bald.”
“Do you realize how long I’ve waited to lose my fur? How important it’s been to me? How hard I’ve worked? All the books I’ve read? All the visualizations I’ve done?”
“Is that what you were doing Saturday mornings?” he said.
“You know what I was doing Saturday mornings! I was attending my Shedding Your Fur Workshop. Susan down the road lost her fur ages ago. And Martha, and Mary, and Lynette, none of them have fur anymore. How do you think it’s been for me, the only one of my friends still walking around fully furred? Can you even begin to imagine the pitying that’s been going on behind my back? Can you?”
He was completely awake now, as was the dog, who’d come out of her crate and was sniffing the fur on the floor. “I’ve always liked you covered in fur,” he said, raising himself on one elbow to look at me. “That’s the woman I married. I’m too old for change. Did you check your pubes?”
“Well, did you?” he said.
“Here, on the most profound night of my life, when I have at last reached a furless state of being, all you can think about is my pubes?”
“I’m going to miss your fur,” he said.
“You’ll get used to it,” I said.
Then he got out of bed, picked up several patches of fur and, together with those lying on the sheets, arranged them on his pillow. “I think I’ll go back to sleep now, Olivia,” he said, nuzzling the fur sadly.
Too excited to sleep I lay in bed for the rest of the night thinking about tomorrow. Oh, the world was now mine!